Nontraditional Love
by Rachie17
Summary: It doesn't happen like they say it does. At least, it didn't in my case. It wasn't like in the story books at all. I didn't know I would change, I didn't know what was going on, I didn't know I'd end up falling for her, or depending on how you look at it, being forced to fall for her. Please review.


It doesn't happen like they say it does. At least, it didn't in my case. It wasn't like in the story books at all. I didn't know I would change, I didn't know what was going on, I didn't know I'd end up falling for her, or depending on how you look at it, being forced to fall for her. My name is Quinn, and I suppose this is my story.

Allow me to start off by telling you how I differ from your storybooks. I'm "naturally hot", if you want to call it that. Although, I doubt there's anything natural about leeching heat out of things. You see, that's what we do. We leech it, and we hold it, renewing it wherever and however we can. It's not like we have a choice, though, I suppose it's a survival instinct. We can share it, when we so choose. If I were to share with another person, we'd both end up at a temperature somewhere in the middle. If I didn't choose to share, and we were touching, I'd all but drain her. Somehow, they never die, and I suppose I should be considering myself lucky for that. We have no unusual sex appeal, as your stories seem to suggest we do. The only thing we have is that we're incredibly in shape, but you would be too. There's nothing different about our faces, except, maybe, our eyes, and even then you'd have to get closer than we'd probably let you. Our sense of smell isn't astronomical when we aren't in a shift, and our hearing follows the same rule. We don't age slower, and we don't change with the moon. We also aren't fucking huge, unless we so choose to be, and that takes tremendous effort. One thing your storybooks got right though, we do have a mate, and when we find them, that's it. It doesn't matter how hard you fight it, how old or young they are, how irritating they are, or if they want anything to do with you or not. You are theirs, completely. And the telepathy, they got that right. Although usually, we rely on our eyes, ears, and nose to alert us if something is wrong with one of our pack. Oh, and in case you haven't figured it out yet, I'm a werewolf. Surprise.

Now that we've established everything, I guess I should get to my story.

It was my senior year in high school and I fully expected everything to be going my way. I had started to shift in my sophomore year, and discovered that there were more werewolves around. I hadn't expected that, you see. I live in a small little town, by myself. My "parents" died a few years back. Not that I'd call them that. I was adopted, and they couldn't have cared less about me if they tried. I was all for appearances. Anyways, being on my own probably turned out to save my life. I can only imagine what would've happened if I had shifted in front of them. I ran out that night and met the rest of them, and I was lucky. Your pack is your family in our world, and rouge wolves never seem to do well. I was running through a park and being overloaded by everything new. The sights, the smells, the sounds, a human is pretty much deaf, blind, and scentless compared to what I was experiencing. All of the sudden, three others silently stepped out of the woods bordering the park, two males and a female. I must have missed their smells in all of my confusion. They circled me and took their turns sniffing, making sure they were safe and I wasn't a rouge, I suppose. Then slowly, we all made introductions. The bigger male stepped forward. He was a tan color, with a stripe down his back.  
"Puck." He stated. His voice was deep, yet laughing.  
The smaller male stepped forward and took his place. He was jet black and moved with a grace I'd never seen before.  
"Mike." His voice was softer, but held warmth.  
The female stepped forward in Mike's place. She was a deep auburn color, the kind that looks like it's on fire in the sun.  
"Santana." Her voice held a smirk, like she was in on some secret that I wasn't. " And who are you?"

I straightened out the best I could, and replied "Quinn." Santana's face split into what could only be called a grin.

Puck and Mike stepped up next to Santana.

"Welcome to the pack, Quinn."


End file.
